Thirst for Knowlege
by darkfather
Summary: Addiction to your work is the most fatal. It often let you lose your sanity for it.Doccentered. Written for the September Challenge of LJ's fictionhaven. Theme: Addiction


**Thirst for Knowledge**

Doc awaited the first demonstration of their power with suspense. In less than two minutes the preparations were set. He knew patience was a virtue, but this was the work of his life, the only reason he existed. Doc heard one of the heavy steel doors behind him open; the noise of footsteps told Doc that there were two men, and that they were walking towards him.

"Heil, Hitler!" shouted the two men in chorus – other scientists who worked on _Projekt: Letztes Battailion._

Doc didn't care much for them, but what was important was the demonstration.

In the corner of the room there was a prison cell occupied by a Russian POW. He was looking around hysterically; he probably knew that he wasn't there for fun. Opposite Doc, inside the cell, was a heavy fire-protection door.

Above them in a control room, one of the scientists stood watching Doc and the POW in the cell.

"You can start the demonstration, now" Doc called to the observer.

The scientist in the control room flipped a switch on the control panel before him. After he finished, the fire-protection door opened. At first the POW was frightened by the sudden movement, behind the door was only darkness except for a person in a Russian uniform standing behind the door. This sight calmed the POW down a bit; he began to speak in Russian to the person in the dark hallway behind the door.

Doc didn't know what he said; he had never been interested in the language of those peasants. Greek and Latin – the languages of Aristotle, Plato and other great thinkers – those interested him, but not the ramblings of the slaves, those eastern barbarians weren't called Slavs without reason.

The POW didn't get any response and started to feel uncomfortable. In the strange silence, Doc and other scientists waited for the inevitable to happen.

Suddenly, the _it_ began to move, releasing a long, hollow moan that sounded also somewhat greedy, as though he had been awaiting something and had finally gotten it.

As _it_ stepped out of the shadow, the POW could see that that _it _was alreadydecayedparts of its flesh falling away as it walked towards him. The moaning grew louder as the creature came closer and closer, but soon its moaning was outdone by the screams of the POW. They could probably be heard in the whole complex. The prisoner began to sweat like a pig in a slaughterhouse; actually he _was _a pig in a slaughterhouse.

Finally, Doc would see the fruit of his work in action, although ghouls were not his final goal, they were a little victory on the way to creating a vampire. Earlier, the ghouls made problems with turning to ashes about five minutes and forty-six seconds after they were turned. This time varied by fifty-eight seconds. The reason of the demonstration was to find out if they could sustain unlife longer if they ate.

The Russian pressed himself into the corner in a foolish attempt to increase his life by seconds. The man screamed something to Doc, who was deaf for his pleas. All great achievements produced some collateral victims, it was only natural.

Eventually, the ghoul grabbed him by his shoulders pressing him into the corner. The POW scream was incredibly high-pitched as the ghoul's mouth came closer to his neck. Only seconds before the ghoul bit into him, he began to cry.

Then the ghoul bit a piece of flesh out of his neck with a noise that sounded like fruit crushed under a shoe. The blood flew away from the wound in every direction.

The younger one of the scientists watching the demonstration became pale at the sight.

The ghoul swallowed the piece of flesh greedily; as it bit the POW a second time, the horror finally ended for him with his death. Doc felt no remorse or something like that, as the fear disorted face of the POW stared at him. The corpse sagged.

The ghoul gave a satisfied groan as he swallowed the flesh, then ripped the left arm off the corpse and gnawed on it like on a corn cob.

The young scientist to the left of Doc felt nausea rising; he was as pale as a corpse. His stomach made trouble he couldn't hold back anymore when the ghoul took a bite of the dead POWs chest. He ran out of the room, and went to the toilet the fastest way possible.

Doc didn't notice this; he was too focused on his work. He was pleased with the strength of the ghoul; it ripped an arm off the corpse without problem. His work would change the outcome of the war, Doc was sure about that.

Suddenly, just as he was about to finish the arm, the ghoul fell to ashes. Doc felt heavy frustration, clenching his teeth together until he almost broke a tooth.

"How long did he endure?" he asked the scientist in the control room, infuriated.

"Six minutes and fourteen seconds." was the short answer.

Doc's frustration grew, no success. The problem has to lie somewhere else – maybe they did something wrong when they turned the Russian into a ghoul. He needs a solution, fast. The Bolshevistic rabble is getting closer and closer to the research facility.

Doc walked towards the door as the other scientist left in the room asked, "Herr Professor what will…"

Doc interupted him, "I am busy."

He left the room and started to think about it as he walked down the corridor. It was a huge setback; he has to make progress, soon. Or else… He doesn't want to think about it. The work of his life ruined, by the bolshevists. He wouldn't let them steal his success.

He was unravelling the mysteries of life and death – no other person before him had come so close to this.

When he was successful he would earn his place in the history of science. Not even

DaVinci could be said to have made such an important discovery. Doc's research would be on par with the discovery of fire. He would be the new Prometheus.

But this problem threatened to destroy everything. How would he ever make vampires, when he could not even sustain the life of a ghoul?

His frustration started to turn into fear, but he knew he wouldn't give up, it was just too important. He also thought about what the Major would do to him if he failed, but he recognized that his death was nothing compared to the fact that he might be unable to solve the mystery.

He just has to work on, not only for Germany and the Führer, but also for his own sake.

He went into his lab, trying to figure out the solution; it was a long night for him.

In the whole lab, only one lamp was turned on. This little bit of light made the photos of the dead Russian specimen even more gruesome, but Doc didn't care anyway. He worked for thirty-eight hours in a row.

But he still didn't find the solution to their problem.

Many people wondered why he was so skinny; the only reason was that he had no time to eat – his research was too important to interupt it. Doc also never slept much.

But working thirty-eight hours in a row without sleeping was tough even for Doc. He was happy to have his stimulants. He grabbed the pill bottle and dry-swallowed its contents. There was still much to figure out.


End file.
